HLSEBT - 7

Jo Woo-taek, the HR manager, was a veteran with ten years of experience at the center. Having transferred from a government department, he was satisfied with his job here. 

The pay was good, and there was flexibility in work arrangements. Since ARK was an institution established abroad, its welfare system for employees was meticulously designed. 

But every once in a while, situations like this would arise, and he’d find himself reminiscing about his days as a civil servant, when he was paid less but only had to deal with similarly ordinary people. 

“Rejected.” 

“Miss Taeha. Can’t we reconsider just one more time?” 

“I’ve thought about it multiple times, and no.” 

“Why-y…” 

Jo Woo-taek made a pitiful face that didn’t suit his burly frame. On the screen he had pulled up, the new Guide candidate’s information was displayed. 

“I already decided on Mr. Park Ji-sang. The center promised they’d follow my decision, didn’t they?” 

“That was before the center fully analyzed this person’s information… This is a late manifestation case. He was originally in the military but requested a transfer to our side for alternative service, which is why we were slow to identify him.” 

“The process of changing affiliations must have been quite complicated. Why go through all that trouble?” 

“He’s always wanted diverse field experiences… And since we collaborate internationally quite often, maybe that appealed to him? Plus, we have a lot of overseas assignments.” 

Yoon Taeha pursed her lips tightly and glared at the screen. Then she turned her gaze back to the man sitting quietly on the other side of the glass wall. 

From this side, she could see him, but he couldn’t see or hear her. 

Whether he knew this or not, the man sat calmly, staring straight ahead with a relaxed expression. Even without any particular effort, the corners of his mouth naturally curved upward. 

At first, she thought it was attractive, but now it felt unsettling. If you impulsively grab something because it looks pretty, it might turn out to be poisonous. 

Someone had once said: 

“You know Gaia, right, Miss Taeha? When has Gaia ever given a wrong answer?” 

Now they were even bringing in the AI to persuade her. It felt like just yesterday when people were complaining that Gaia was taking away their livelihoods. 

Gaia was the artificial intelligence used by ARK. 

An AI created by extraterrestrials. A heart made of 0s and 1s nestled deep within the Ark. 

It was often said—exaggeratedly—that while there might be answers Gaia wouldn’t give due to insufficient permissions, there was no question Gaia didn’t know the answer to. 

And this man—this man was a Guide recommended to Yoon Taeha by Gaia herself. 

The last candidate to appear had received Gaia’s strong recommendation. How dramatic. 

It was so dramatic that it felt suspicious. 

Yoon Taeha, who had been tapping her nails on the desk, abruptly stood up and moved closer to the screen. 

The man in the impeccably taken ID photo wore a lukewarm, expressionless face. 

Cheon Geun-young. So his name was Cheon Geun-young. 

She crossed her arms defensively. 

“To be honest, Cheon Geun-young’s specs are incredible. As far as Guides go, he’s S-Class!” 

Manager Jo, who had spent over a decade pairing Espers with Guides, smoothly interjected like a sly fox. 

He adopted an aggressive stance reminiscent of a top-tier matchmaking agency employee promising personalized free counseling, thorough identity verification, and swift introductions—all while boasting high customer satisfaction rates. 

“You know better than anyone, Miss Taeha. These days, Guides with good physical capabilities are worth their weight in gold.” 

Indeed, his profile was flawless. 

Top of his class for all three years at the Agent Academy. Expert marksman. Designated as a model cadet for three consecutive years. All scholarships received were donated back to society. He personally sponsored dozens of orphaned children from Rift zones. 

That meant he had likely poured every penny of his salary into sponsorships.

If they were selecting purely based on specs while hiding personal details, this man would undoubtedly have been chosen as her Guide. However, there was a piece of information in the remarks section that gave her pause.

Family relations: CH Group. Grandfather. To others, it might not matter, but for Yoon Taeha, this was a disqualifying factor.

“He’s Chairman Cheon Seong-beom’s grandson.”

“Is that really an issue? Growing up under a wealthy grandfather isn’t exactly a demerit...”

Yoon Taeha let out a deflated sigh and placed her hands on her hips, exasperated.

“It’s not just that his grandfather has a lot of money.”

Was there anyone in Korea who didn’t know the name Cheon Seong-beom?

No one would disagree that “Cheonhwa” was Korea’s greatest output since the Rift Era began. And Cheon Seong-beom was the mastermind behind Cheonhwa.

Chairman Cheon. Our Chairman Cheon.

Many revered him as a new prophet and savior, and rightly so. Cheon Seong-beom was a legendary figure who had risen from nothing to build a colossal empire.

His name appeared on the list of the first-generation Awakened who participated in the Seoul Recapture Operation. Back then, he was a formidable Pyrokinetic Esper, known for his incredible power.

The tale of him single-handedly annihilating a colony of monsters entrenched in Bukhansan Mountain as the field commander was famous.

A flame descending from the sky. A red light driving away the darkness.

The young and fiery Cheon Seong-beom gathered like-minded comrades and founded a private military company.

Under his leadership, what began as a group of young men contracted by the government to eliminate monsters evolved into a transnational corporate giant. Much of this success was attributed to Chairman Cheon’s abilities and acumen.

Without Cheonhwa, Korea wouldn’t function.

By the third generation of the Rift Era, Cheonhwa had rebranded itself as CH Group.

With its fingers in every conceivable industry, some people now interpreted the “Hwa” in Cheonhwa not as “flower” or “fire,” but as “calamity.” 

Nevertheless, Cheonhwa remained Cheonhwa. And the man sitting beyond the glass wall was of Chairman Cheon’s bloodline.

Now that she thought about it, there was a slight resemblance.

Yoon Taeha, who knew far more about Cheonhwa’s history than the average person, felt a hypothesis forming on the tip of her tongue.

“What if he’s an industrial spy?”

Manager Jo turned to look at Cheon Geun-young through the glass with a shocked expression.

“An industrial spy? Surely not... The chairman’s direct grandson?”

“Isn’t this what you mentioned before? Two years ago, one of the experienced Espers we hired turned out to be a spy sent by Cheonhwa.”

“Hmm, well...”

“And wasn’t that the same person who leaked our Guide roster? I remember it caused quite a stir.”

Manager Jo winced, feeling the sting of truth. But he was an employee, someone whose daily motto was dictated by orders from above, so he attempted to negotiate again.

After all, his loyalty lay with the paycheck that arrived on the 25th of every month.

“Still... the employees who conducted the second-round interviews praised him highly, and he scored full marks on the Esper Human Rights Awareness Test...”

“I’ve heard that test is rigged to make those who score full marks look suspicious.”

“Ah... is that so?”

“I didn’t even get full marks.”

That was news to him. Manager Jo looked crestfallen. Sensing she had the upper hand, Yoon Taeha pressed her advantage.

Given who she was dealing with, Manager Jo couldn’t simply push back without reason.

“Even if he doesn’t have any intention of espionage, it’s uncomfortable to work alongside the chairman’s grandson. If something happens to him, there’s no guarantee that the entire center—starting with me—won’t get roasted alive.”

“Hmm... well, that’s...”

“If I were Chairman Cheon, I wouldn’t want an Esper like me assigned to my youngest grandson either.”

“Ah, don’t say that again. What do you mean, an Esper like you?”

“I’m not a child anymore… I know what the Guides say about me behind my back.”

Yoon Taeha avoided Guides as much as they avoided her. With a nickname like “Mad Dog,” how could it be otherwise? 

She didn’t blame them. If I were a Guide, I’d hate an Esper like me too. It’s creepy. The man on the other side of the glass wall would likely feel the same way.

He probably grew up surrounded by only beautiful and pleasant things. He looked like he had no immunity to this world. Getting involved with him would only bring unnecessary trouble.

Let’s send him away cleanly. Having reached this conclusion internally, she stood up and said,

“If he feels burdened, I’ll tell him myself.”

“Yourself?”

“We still need to go through the motions of a fourth-round interview for procedural purposes. Otherwise, they’ll demand another explanation report.”

Manager Jo awkwardly rose from his seat, caught between indecision. Meanwhile, Yoon Taeha was full of resolve, even cracking a light-hearted joke.

“After living so long, I guess I’ve now experienced rejecting a third-generation chaebol heir in an interview.”

“In that case, I’ll turn off the mic, Miss Taeha.”

“Do as you please.”

It’ll be over soon anyway.

With firm misjudgment, Yoon Taeha exited the meeting room.

*

The center had a rotation system for Guides designed for Espers without dedicated partners.

It wasn’t like forcing strangers into an embrace right off the bat—more like sharing dorms or accompanying each other on missions. Even radiative guiding, which occurred when Guides fell into deep sleep, had its effects.

Of course, Guides openly expressed their displeasure whenever Yoon Taeha came up in the rotation.

Some approached out of curiosity about Korea’s rare S-Class Esper but left spitting curses.

It was like a third-rate company glittering on the outside but riddled with complaints from ex-employees.

So she intentionally maintained superficial relationships with Guides, keeping her distance. Naturally, proper guiding never took place under such circumstances.

“Let’s do this well.”

Yoon Taeha lightly exhaled as she gripped the doorknob of the opposite meeting room.

This was something she always did, yet her hands trembled again. Why did Espers have to become so weak in front of Guides?

Knock, knock, knock. She gave the other party some time to prepare before opening the door.

A long meeting room. Afternoon light poured in through the windows. The man standing by the window turned to look at her the moment she stepped inside.

Please just stay where you are.

Her first wish was immediately shattered. Using his long legs, the man casually walked toward her.

Now facing him directly, she realized how tall he really was. And why does he have such good skin? He’s going to make other Espers cry with that face.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Yoon Taeha felt irritated. She forced the corners of her lips upward. Focus. Send him away. You can do this. She prepared to greet him cheerfully with her pre-planned introduction.

“I believe we didn’t properly introduce ourselves earlier.”

She was beaten to it. He extended his hand for a handshake.

“My name is Cheon Geun-young.”

His posture was impeccably polite, as if drawn perfectly.